Cloudy Skies
by hipeople24
Summary: She was an enigma, a mystery, and he felt the urge to solve her. He wanted to know everything about her. What was her name? What did her voice sound like? What was she like? Why was she crying, that day that he first saw her? Doranbolt/MestxWendy AU
1. Chapter 1

The first time he saw her, she was crying, crystalline drops flying from chocolate eyes. All he wanted to do in that singular moment was to embrace her, to hug her tightly to his chest and never let her go. He wanted to wipe her tears away with the pad of his thumb and trace her quivering lips until she smiled for him.

But he couldn't. It was wrong, so very wrong. So he let her slip away, the image of her tear-stained cheeks emblazoned inside of his head the only thing left that remained of her.

For days afterward, he couldn't get the image of her out of his thoughts. Every day, he found himself scanning the crowds for a little girl with navy hair. Yet, no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find her.

His memories of her were soon warped and she became an enigma, a mystery, and he felt the urge to solve her. He wanted to know everything about her. What was her name? What did her voice sound like? What was she like? Why was she crying, that day that he first saw her?

He tossed and turned at night, the face that haunted him every waking hour melding into his dreams. Bags developed beneath his eyes and he felt his sanity begin to slip. He just needed to see her, one last time. He needed to confirm that she was real, not just a figment of his imagination.

The second time that he saw her, she was on her way to school, a backpack with a blue dragon on her back. His breath caught in his throat as he observed her from afar, fingers jumping with restrained excitement.

He wanted to call out to her, but she was already in front of the bus, rapidly approaching the gaping maw of the school bus. As she strode inside, he watched her slip away yet again. He leaned against his apartment door, feeling the bit of cold metal on his skin. It was then that he made up his mind.

When that little girl got home from school, he would speak to her. They would talk, nothing more. Then, his burning curiosity would be quenched and he could resume with his normal life.

He never could have expected that this innocent idea would soon distort and begin something that was truly taboo.


	2. Chapter 2

It was time.

He stared at the school bus, stopped right outside his window. He felt his heart clench and his breath catch in his throat as she stepped out of the yellow monstrosity, blue hair billowing in the cold winter wind.

Her cheeks brightened with the cold that stung her cheeks and her ochre eyes looked immensely saddened.

His resolve pushed him through the doors of his apartment and into the bitter cold. He leaned against the wall of the shoddy building, attempting to look casual and not like the creeper he felt like.

He was just going to talk to her this once in order to sate his curiosity. That was all.

Her steps on the metal staircase were quieted by her small weight. He only heard her slow approach because his ears strained at every sound that she made.

Her head appeared above the steps, her brown eyes riveted to his the second she noticed him. Her eyes widened with some emotion that he was unable to decipher, it flashed too quickly across her face for him to take note of it.

He was trapped by those pools of brown, they seemed to encompass him and he was transfixed by the life that swirled in their depths. Then, with no warning other than a soft gasp, his gaze was torn from hers as her head slammed into the ground.

He felt himself detach himself from the wall, and before he even realized what he was doing, he was in front of her. "Are you okay?" he asked her, extending a hand to her. A moment of tension stretched between them as she sat there, simply staring at his outstretched hand.

Then, with a slight tremor, her hand met his, tiny fingers clenching onto his larger ones. He pulled her up, arms barely straining from her slight weight. Tremors still wracked her body as she struggled to maintain her balance. Finally, the little girl regained her equilibrium; small hands separated from his and instead busied themselves with dusting off her dress.

He felt a sudden loss and had the urge to tangle his fingers in hers again, but he restrained himself by subtly moving away and leaning his body against the apartment building, hands trapped between his body and rough concrete.

"Are you okay?" he repeated, a contorted smile forced onto his face. He felt like a horrible person. Why was he doing this again? He barely even knew her.

His suspicions were farther heightened when she startled at his question, her head turning away from his as a blush of embarrassment dusted across her cheeks. "Yeah. That…happens a lot."

Something curled in his gut at those words, spoken as if they had crossed those lips thousands of times before, and now they barely meant anything. He re-observed her casual actions towards her fall, and felt concern. A little girl should cry and pout when she fell, not just stand there, wiping dust and gravel off of her boney knees.

He wanted to give her permission to cry. He wanted to protect her so that she wouldn't have to brush off any amount of pain, small or large.

"If it happens a lot, that means you aren't paying enough attention when you walk. You need to be more careful, or else you'll end up hurting yourself seriously." He stated, attempting to seem like an authority figure, rather than an untrustworthy stranger.

At his remark, however, she reacted differently than he expected that she would. The tiny shoulders drew together and tensed and her brown eyes, once swimming with emotion, steeled. She sent a glare at him and he felt a shiver run up his spine.

"I'm fine. It's just that I'm a little clumsy, that's all. I'm a strong person, I really am. I…" Her voice trailed off, all traces of anger worn away into unease.

Cautiously, he leant forward, placing a large hand on her shoulder. "I believe you. You look like a strong person…" He paused, then let out a short, harsh laugh. Before he could stop himself from speaking, he asked in a playful manner, "Oh, It would seem I don't even know your name. How rude of me. Let me introduce myself for real. My name is… Mest Gryder." The name caught in his throat, due to miscalculation and unfamiliarity. He was lucky that such a slip up had occurred with a little kid. If it had been one of _them_, he would already have a bullet lodged in his skull.

The little girl beamed at Mest, honey eyes glancing toward the hand that resided on her lithe shoulder. "My name's Wendy. Wendy Marvell. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Gryder."

Mest ran a hand through his cropped brown hair, laughing slightly. "No, don't call me Mr. Gryder. You make me sound like a 90 year old man. I may be a couple years your senior, but I'm not an actual senior." He winked one cerulean eye at her. "A strong girl like you can just call me Mest."

"Mest. M-E-S-T." She sounded out his name, as it testing the way that it felt in her mouth. Mest had to suppress the urge to laugh at her antics, since she looked so serious while sounding out the name. "Okay, Mest. It's nice to meet you." She extended a hand toward him and Mest met her halfway, grasping her hand in his.

"I'm glad to meet you too, Wendy. I hope that I'll be seeing a lot more of you sometime soon." He said with a wink, untangling her hand from his and walking towards the door of his apartment.

She stood there, blue hair blowing in the wind, staring at the retreating figure of her newfound friend.

"Mest." She whispered one last time before heaving her backpack over her shoulder, and walking through the door of her apartment and into the arms of her anxious brothers.

_A/N. I am so, so sorry about the OOCness. I mean, it can be excused for Mest/Doranbalt since he is an enigmatic character, but Wendy just wouldn't come out right. Oh well, I'll go back and edit this later. _

_Well, thanks for waiting so long for a new chapter. I have no good excuse, just my own laziness. I hope you enjoyed this, and I hope to get the next chapter out in a shorter amount of time than this one. So, without further ado, goodbye and hope to see you all soon._


	3. Chapter 3

"I hate you." Doranbolt hissed, fingers digging into the telephone in his hands with almost painful force. He had to will himself to relinquish his grip on the metal, his fingertips stained white from the force he that he dug into the phone with.

"That makes no difference to me. You still have to keep to your assignment." The other man retorted the bite of authority punctuating his words. Doranbolt could almost visualize the smug grin on his superior's face.

"But Lahar…" Doranbolt whined, frustration winning over his respect for his superior. "This sucks. There's no sign of anything here. There's just a bunch of kids and the scattered oddball. Me being here is a waste of valuable time and resources."

Lahar let out a tired sigh, the air hissing through the line in a rush of static noise. "We had a tip on their location and the guy said that they were seen entering and exiting that apartment complex. So, I have spent the last month setting you up so that you can infiltrate their base of operations. You will remain doing so until we lose faith in our anonymous tip or until you find them and get rid of them. Do I make myself clear, Doranbolt?"

A hand dragged itself through short tufts of black hair as Doranbolt contemplated refusing Lahar again. Although the two of them got along, Lahar would only stretch so far until he snapped and beat Doranbolt into submission. With a heavy heart and a deep sense of foreboding, he finally said with reluctance, "Fine. It's not like I have a say in this any way. I'll stay on the assignment."

"Good. I am glad that you see the simplicity in agreeing with me. Guran Doma will be pleased that you are no longer resisting."

Doranbolt let out a scoff, finding no reason to hide his displeasure at his boss's name. "Who cares what he thinks. He should try working the field for once, instead of sitting around all day…" He ranted, irate that every aspect of his life was controlled by a harsh, vendictive old man. After all, it was Guran Doma's hatred and inability to forgive that got him stuck in this situation.

Lahar, upon hearing his subordinate's tangent tirade, subtly clicked the red button on his phone, disconnecting the call. There was no use in trying to calm the irritated man down, not when he got on the topic of Guran Doma. It was better for Lahar to wait it out and call back at a later time.

A smile tugged at the man's lips as he imagined Doranbolt raging to a dead line. It never failed to amuse him how immature the other man was. Oh well, that was why he kept the younger male around, for moments like this. Life got boring without someone to play with.


	4. Chapter 4

Talking to her once wasn't enough. He was stupid to believe that something so childish would work. In fact, his yearning for her only increased.

Wendy. Sometimes, when he was sitting alone, watching the passing throng of people, he would just whisper it, caress it with his mouth, feel it on his lips. It was a beautiful name. Just like her.

He shook his head, attempting to dislodge the wayward thoughts that floated in his brain. It was wrong, so very, very wrong, to want a little girl like that. It was pedophilic, disgusting, and just plain immoral. Even in _his_ profession, such an idea was as taboo as it gets.

Wendy. He wanted her, but in more than a physical way. His attraction to the little girl went far beyond her expressive eyes and luscious hair. When he talked to her, he felt alive, like she was the reason that he could get up each day. There was more to her than her looks. She was intelligent and caring and she treated him differently. She didn't balk at the disgusting scar that was carved into his face, didn't acknowledge it in any way. She was naïve, innocent, sweet…

This had to stop. He was going around in circles. His attention on the outside world all but faded, his entire mind directed inward towards his feuding thoughts. At this rate, he would be stuck on this assignment forever, stuck in this small apartment complex, surveying the passing people with an air of suspiciousness.

He would be stuck contemplating his depraved thoughts forever.

"Once I get my hands on that Dragon King…" he muttered, hands wringing together. "Once I find where that bastard is hiding, I'll be able to leave this place for good."

At least, that was what he sincerely hoped.


	5. Chapter 5

He had been at this for hours. His head felt fuzzy and his eyes were starting to become bleary. He fought the exhaustion that threatened to seep into his already lethargic posture. Only two more hours…

A faint flicker of blue caught his eyes and he instantly riveted his gaze on the girl climbing up metal steps. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he reminisced about the last time that they had spoken. She had tripped on those very stairs while he was waiting to talk to her.

As if his memories triggered reality, Wendy's skirt got caught in the hand rail and she crashed into the ground.

Instantly, Doranbolt was rushing out the door to her aide. His body moved without thought, with no regards for the consequences that could potentially end with him chest-deep in emotional baggage.

He caught the glimmer of an unshed tear in her ochre eye before it fell to the concrete beneath her head. Wendy's eyes flickered to his, her emotions hid behind a mask of indifference and forced maturity. He would doubt the tear that had swam inside its depths had he not seen the splatter of it against the cold ground.

"M…Mest? What are you doing here?" She whispered, her words barely audible over the pounding of blood in his ears. His consciousness finally caught up with him and internally, he cursed himself for his idiocy. This was beyond sick. He was now a pedophile stalker. How low can he get? Oh, god, she would call the police and his cover would be blown and then Lahar would…

"Mest. Are you listening to me Mest? Mest, are you okay?" Her soft inquisition brought him back from his panicked thoughts.

She didn't seem upset at his interruption, so maybe he was off the hook for now. "Yeah, I'm… fine. There's just…a lot on my mind right now."

"I see" she replied, eyes warily assessing him. "Was that why you were standing outside, to get some fresh air and get things off of your mind? I do that a lot. It's relaxing, letting the wind just float through you."

"Well, I wasn't outside. I was actually inside my apartment, looking outside the window, when I saw you trip. I kind of just reacted and ran out here without any thought." He said sheepishly, dragging a tanned hand through his black strands.

"Oh." Wendy whispered, the faintest hint of a blush brightening her cheeks. "I guess I am the only one that does that. I guess my brothers are right…"

Doranbolt blanched at the melancholy tone that her voice adapted and he felt panic well up inside of him. "What, No! I didn't mean that I've never done something like that before. It's just that I was inside this time. You aren't the only one that ever stands outside for no apparent reason. That's how I met you, remember?"

He might have li...No, stretched the truth a little, but the smile that lit up her juvenile face was worth it. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with happiness as she ran toward him. He had no time to brace himself for the impact as she flung her lithe body into his arms.

Air whooshed from his lungs and he staggered in a desperate attempt to regain his balance. His left hand found itself twining in her silky blue hair, his fingers lightly grasping her scalp. His right hand rested on the small of her back, softly caressing the curve of her spine. Her face was pressed into his stomach and he could feel the curve of her lips that signaled to him that she was still smiling.

She felt so tiny in his arms, he was afraid that he would break her. Yet, she felt like she belonged there, wrapped inside of his embrace. He found himself wishing that he never had to let her go, that she would never leave his arms.

"Well, what do we have here?" A gruff voice snarled. Doranbolt loosened his grip on Wendy, and she also relinquished her hold on him. He turned to face the man, and openly gaped at what he saw. Lines of piercings ran across both eyebrows and down his nose, with a single silver stud driven into the center of his chin. Furious red eyes glared from beneath black eyebrows. The man's thick black hair fanned along his backside and his stature dwarfed Doranbolt easily.

Before Doranbolt could comprehend what was happening, a tan fist had him against the wall of the apartment complex with a sneering face pressed against his. "Whadya think your doin'?" He growled, pressing Doranbolt even harder into the abrasive concrete.

"Gajeel, stop. He didn't do anything to me, I swear. I hugged him" Wendy tugged on one studded sleeve, causing the brute to fixate his glare at her. Doranbolt watched, flabbergasted, as the man's facial expression melted. The harsh look in his eyes softened into what could only be described as concern.

"So he didn't do nothin' to you?" the man asked.

Wendy let out a little giggle, much to Doranbolt's shock. "No, He didn't do anything to me. If anything, I'm the one that attacked him. Stop worrying so much, or else you're going to go gray."

"What about Gray, What does he have to do with this? Did he attack you? Should I go beat him up too?" Another giggle emulated from Wendy.

What the hell was going on? Who was this man and why did Wendy talk so comfortably with him?

"Calm down, Gajeel. No one did anything to me. You don't have to beat up anyone." Wendy walked toward the hostile man and wrapped her tiny arms around him in a hug. "Now, could you please let my friend down? I don't think he appreciated being pushed into a wall by you."

At her words, Doranbolt's feet touched the ground again. He sent another glare at Doranbolt before he let go of him completely. Dornbolt dusted off his clothes before subtly slipping outside of the burly man's attacking range. He didn't want to get caught in that man's grip again.

"So he's your friend, eh." The man said, peering at Doranbolt.

Wendy nodded at him. "Yes. Gajeel, this is my friend Mest. He lives next door." Wendy turned to face Doranbolt, her chocolate eyes boring into his own. "Mest, this is my big brother, Gajeel. I hope that the two of you can get along."

Doranbolt's gaze darted between the two people in front of him as he attempted to understand the words that had just exited Wendy's lips. That big brute of a man was Wendy's big brother.

Just then, there was a small explosion from the room next door. A pink head stuck out from the room and black eyes swept across the hallway until they landed on the mismatched group standing outside. a grin stretched across his features and he sauntered out, unconcerned about the smoke that clung to his skin in black waves.

"Yo Wendy, Gajeel. What's up out here? I could hear you all from inside. Gajeel, you bastard, were you beating up random people again? You should stop or else Wendy's never going to make any new friends." Gajeel tried to speak, but was cut off as the pink haired man sent a punch right to his jaw.

"Natsu, you ass! What was that for? You didn't even give me a chance to explain myself." Gajeel cried, fist flying forward and slamming into the pink haired man's nose. Blood spurted from the wound, but he looked unfazed. A maniac grin spread across his face as he attacked Gajeel again, this time with more fervor.

The two men rolled on the ground, punching and kicking each other with no abandon. Suddenly, their fight was halted by Wendy screaming, "Natsu, Gajeel, stop it. You're making yourselves look bad in front of Mest.

"Mest?" Black eyes finally rested on Doranbolt, as if seeing him for the first time. "Oh, I see now. Hi Mest. I'm Wendy's brother Natsu. Don't get the wrong idea about me. Just because Gajeel's an uptight bastard, it doesn't mean that I am." He stuck out a bloodied hand to Doranbolt, seemingly unaware that he was still spewing blood from his nose and that his offered hand was dripping with the crimson liquid.

"Ummm." Doranbolt had nothing to say. His head was still reeling from the vibrant personalities of the two men that he had just met. Natsu continued to stare at him.

"Why won't you shake my hand? Wendy, I don't like your new friend. He isn't very polite." Wendy just shook her head at her brother and Gajeel snickered.

"Your hand's covered in blood, dumbass. No one wants to shake hands with you when you're bleeding."

Natsu focused his gaze on his hand, eyes widening comedicly when he noticed the blood. "Ohhhh." He said sheepishly, dragging his blood soaked hand through his hair. Doranbolt stared in horror as his pink strands were dyed red and he couldn't help but wonder is that was why the man's hair was such a ridiculous color. If so, that was disgusting.

"Natsu!" Both Wendy and Gajeel yelled at the same time.

"Oh, oops. I probably shouldn't have done that." He said, staring at his now blood-smeared hand in confused wonder.

"Natsu, get your ass inside and clean yourself up. You look like you just got hit by a train." Gajeel jeered with a smirk.

"Oh yeah, well at least I have a reason to look bad, unlike you. You look like that all the time." Natsu retorted back, slipping inside the amartment complex with a smug grin.

Gajeel was chasing him, shouting, "You're gonna pay, you little shit."

Natsu's lilting reply could be heard from outside the building. "Make me, metal head."

With the door's resounding slam, Doranbolt and Wendy were left alone. Wide eyed, he continued to stare at the door that masked the unmistakable shuffles of a fight. "You live with those two?" He asked Wendy.

She nodded, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. "They aren't usually that bad. It's just that today's Friday and their both excited for tonight's party. They weren't thinking straight."

"I'll say." Doranbolt replied, head still spinning. How had he never noticed those two before? Upon later recollection, he recalled that he had seen them before. He had just never paid them any heed, labeling them as teenaged punks and moving on with his surveillance.

"Please, Mest, Don't hate my brothers. They're a little rough, but they're really sweet once you get past all that. I swear, they aren't usually that crazy."

"It's fine, Wendy, I don't mind. I'm just trying to wrap my head around all that just happened. Those two are a lot to take in at once. I'm sure that they're nice guys. After all, their little sister is you." He said, ruffling her hair. She beamed at him and he let a little smile slide across his own lips in reply. "Now, why don't you stop those two from fighting? I'm guessing that you don't want your apartment broken when you get back."

She sighed and turned to walk towards her door. "I suppose you're right. This is the third apartment we've been to in 6 months. I don't want to move again."

And with that statement, she strode inside the apartment, leaving Doranbolt alone.

Just what had he gotten himself into now? This assignment was getting crazier and crazier by the minute.

_A/N Yay! He met Wendy's brothers! The three of them make such a happy family. Well, a happy, chaotic family. Oh well. Anyways, a lot happened in this chapter. We got a little WendyxDornbolt and we got Natsu and Gajeel. I figured since my last couple of chapters were so short, I could give all you wonderful people a longer chapter. So, the story will finally start to progress now. More Fairy Tail characters will come and play with poor little Doranbolt. _

_Sorry that I kind of Natsu-bashed. I swear I don't hate him. I just felt like he would be this stupid. And I thought the pink hair thing was funny. I mean, come on, how did he get freaking pink hair? It's okay, though. I'll clear up Doranbolt's confusion in the next chapter._

_In response to a question asked in a review, the Wendy is 12 and Doranbolt is 28. I'm deriving his looks from after the time skip, regardless of the fact that Mest invades Fairy Tail before the time skip. He looks better post time skip, hands down._


	6. Chapter 6

The beat thrummed through his body, vibrating his bones with the heavy sound of bass. The heavy sound was slow and lethargic and he found himself unable keep watch without his eyelids drooping every 5 seconds.

Doranbolt let out a sigh. Observation sucked. He couldn't help feeling like an idiot. He wasn't going to see anything but a couple of drunken, underage children party like idiots for hours. He almost considered calling the police, but his inborn fear of cops kept him from doing so.

Instead, he lazily trailed his eyes across the group. There were teenagers everywhere, both boys and girls. They all seemed incredibly happy. It was almost sickening to watch them interact, with the amount of smiling that the kids did. Oh, what Doranbolt would give to be like them again, without any responsibilities, bosses or…

Doranboolt's eyes narrowed as his eyes caught a tiny glimpse of dark blue. It couldn't be. That sign. There was no way that anyone would be walking around with that tattoo so obviously emblazoned on their chest.

Doranbolt's gaze fixated instead on the young man who wore the tattoo of Fairy Tail so unabashedly. He was slight of build, but his exposed torso showed a set of defined abs. Both his hair and eyes were the color of pitch, so black that they set off the unnaturally pale skin in an ethereal way. His pale lips were pulled back in a scowl as he yelled out an angry curse.

The slamming of the apartment door was audible over the loud music. As the pink haired man approached, the entire complex grew deathly silent. Even the music had been silenced, leaving no sound albeit the sound of harsh breathing.

"Ice princess! You've crossed a line! I can't believe you stripped in front of my little sister! I'll kill you!" Natsu screeched, fist connecting with the other boy's cheek.

"Stop being such a hot-head, flame brain! I've already told you, I don't do it on purpose. They just fall off!" The black-haired boy shouted back, blocking Natsu's next blow with his arm.

"And I've told you before, that's the shittiest excuse I've ever heard!" Both men went tumbling, throwing punches at one another.

"Why do I have a feeling of déjà vu?" Doranbolt muttered, feeling offset by the familiar circumstance. "Oh, that's right. He did the same thing to his brother, Gajeel I think his name was."

Doranbolt let a small smile tug at his lips, reminiscent for a moment. It had been a long time since he had been so full of vigor and energy. Watching Natsu and the other boy fight almost made him feel old.

A sudden crash wrenched him from his nostalgia. A pink and black blur had catapulted headfirst into his apartment, via a very busted door. Black eyes met blue eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed to go still.

Them, everything faded into red.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU IDIOTS DO?"

Doranbolt stared at the red haired woman that stomped up to the duo. Her face was contorted in anger and her knuckles were cracking menacingly, as if she was anticipating to…

With two swift punches to each of their skulls, she incapacitated both the teenagers that lay in his doorway. "We're sorry, Erza." Both boys cried out in unison.

The black-haired youth hung his arm over his pink-haired companion. "Natsu and I won't fight anymore. See, we're best friends."

Natsu let out a shaky, unconvincing laugh, also twining his arm over his partner's shoulder. "Yeah, Erza, Gray and I are the best of buds. We won't fight anymore, it's a promise."

Erza narrowed her brown eyes at the pair, then nodded stiffly. "I see." She spoke, voice monotone, "Then, if you two are feeling friendly, how about you apologize to the man whose house you destroyed." Although her voice remained calm, her aura seemed to radiate anger, causing shivers to crawl down Doranbolt's spine.

"Y…yes, ma'am" They quipped, fake smiles plastered on their lips. They then turned to Doranbolt, flashing him those eerie, overly-cheerful grins. Again, they both said in unison, "We apologize, sir. We promise to pay you in full for the door. Sorry for the trouble."

The woman then walked away, a smug smirk alighting upon her face. It was only then that the men's lips contorted into snarls and they both unwound their bodies. The shift in character was so sudden that it took a few seconds for Doranbolt to comprehend the total personality change.

Natsu thrust a single finger into Gray's unsuspecting face, tone ominous, "If you ever strip in front of my little sister again, I will personally burn you alive. Got that, popsicle?"

"I'd like to see you try, ya fire hazard!"

"GRAY!" Natsu screams, raising his fist once more. It seemed inevitable that yet another fight would start, but Natsu's fist was held back by a small, blue blur.

"Stop it, Natsu!" A small voice shouted loudly, then abruptly cut off to a whisper. In a small, weak voice, the child continued hesitantly, "Natsu, please stop beating up Mr. Gray. He didn't do anything to me. He st…stripped over by Juvia, not me. I didn't even know he did it until you broke the neighbor's door."

Wendy shot Doranbolt an apologetic smile, seemingly unaware that it was Doranbolt's door that had been smashed in. Her large ochre eyes widened when her gaze fell upon his. She instantly blushed, then sent an attempted scathing look towards her brother.

Doranbolt's smile relighted upon his face as he stared at the navy hair of his newest…friend. Friend, because that's what little girls like Wendy were to adult men like him, friends and nothing more.

"Ummm, Wendy, did you just say that I striped in front of Juvia?" Gray questioned, voice soft and piteous.

Wendy still had her eyes locked on Doranbolt, so it took her a second to respond to his inquiry. She nodded her head shyly, still not separating her gaze from Doranbolt's form.

Doranbolt hadn't thought it possible, but the black-haired youth paled even more than he had been before. His obsidian eyes widened substantially, flicking frantically over the crowd. "No…no, where is she? If she finds me, I'm dead. I'm so, so, dead." Gray turned to Natsu, clinging to his shoulders. His pale fingers dug into the tanned skin, contrasting harshly with the darker tone of his companion. With a weak, whiney tone, he pleaded, "Natsu, help me. If Juvia finds me half naked…" He shuddered, unable to even complete his sentence.

Natsu grinned boisterously, slapping Gray on the back. He leaned towards the other boy's ear, whispering but five words, "Sorry, buddy, she's already here."

Cobalt eyes glared furiously beneath an indigo cap. The svelte woman lifted one finger to her hat in order to free her navy locks from their restraints. "Gray!" She cried, clasping a blue-tipped hand onto his forearm, "Why are you _naked_?"

"Juvia, I…I'm not naked. I'm just not wearing a _shirt_." Gray protested, securing his arms tightly across his chest, concealing the dark blue mark that stained his skin.

Anger flashed in the woman's eyes and Doranbolt almost felt bad for the black-haired boy, whose pitch eyes were widened in fear and dread. "You're just not wearing a _shirt_? You're despicable. You have the audacity to fight with me when you're the one who's not wearing a shirt in a public place, not to mention a place with a lot of cute girls that are drunk. Do you want _me_ to walk around without a shirt? How would you feel if I did that to you?"

The last nail on the boy's coffin was pounded in as he pleaded with her, "Juvia, It's not the same thing when girls don't wear shirts in public. I'm a guy, there's nothing wrong with me not wearing a shirt."

Tears seeped from Juvia's eyes, soaking the front of her shirt. "I knew it. You're cheating on me! You don't like me anymore, so you slept with someone else. I bet it was Lucy. She's been trying to steal you since day one, I just know it. Gray!" She clung to his arm piteously, rubbing her tear-drenched face against his naked torso. He looked around at the assortment of people around him, but when none came to his rescue, he clumsily put his other arm around the limp body of the sobbing woman.

When his hand came into contract with her back, her hand rose and she slapped him away before she ran down the metal stairs that led away from the complex. Gray stared at his hand in shock, before registering that the woman had run away. He ran a hand through his messy locks, before sprinting after her. "Juvia, Wait! It's a misunderstanding!"

Natsu, Wendy, and Doranbolt stared at the two retreating figures, too confused to truly do much else. "Ummm, so, what am I going to do about my door?" Doranbolt questioned; more to himself than the two siblings that stood in front of him.

This comment seemed to knock Nastu out of his stupor, for he adverted his gaze so that it now rested upon Doranbolt. "Well, Mest, you see…we kinda have a problem. As you can probably see, we don't really have a lot of money." As he stated this, both Natsu and Wendy turned to look at the dilapidated building that housed them. Wendy blushed and looked at the ground, while Natsu continued to look sheepish. "We feel really, really bad about it, but there's no way that we can pay for your door. I know that Gray's in the same boat as I am, so he probably can't give you any money either."

Wendy grabbed onto her brother's hand, unshed tears gathering in her eyes. "Mr. Mest, if there's anything I can do, I'll do it. I can clean your house for you, do your shopping, _anything_. Please, don't call the police on my brother. I…I don't want to lose anyone else ever again…" Her voice wavered into a choked sob and Natsu shielded her with his arm, sending a glare in Doranbolt's direction.

He wasn't going to lie. When Wendy had said that she would do anything, Doranbolt's mind had flashed to some very, very distasteful things. It was wrong and despicable and immoral, yet…

It was so tempting. He could see himself getting away with it, threatening to call the cops if her brothers objected. Even if they tried to get her back, he had ways of keeping them away.

As much as her offer tugged him in that direction, he would not do anything like that to her. Even though he didn't know her all that well, he respected her. Besides, he wasn't a rapist. He was many things, but that was not one of them, nor did he ever plan to have it be a part of his life.

With a sigh, he forced himself to reengage in the conversation. However, before he could speak, Natsu interjected, "We can't give you money, but I refuse to let you have Wendy. My little sister is not a possession, she's a person. We're desperate, but we aren't that desperate. If you're just looking to get your rocks off on a little girl, consider yourself warned." Natsu leaned forward threateningly, his nose almost touching Doranbolt's. "If you even think of laying a hand on her, I will kill you with my bare hands."

The serious tone and the fury burning in the young man's eyes left no doubt that he intended to carry out the threat. For the first time in a long time, Doranbolt felt fear creep into his veins. Not simply because of the threat, although he had to admit that it was partially why, but because he had thought just that. He had wanted to claim Wendy as his, to own her as no human being ever should.

Above all, Doranbolt was terrified of himself.

"I…I don't want to use you or your sister. I was thinking that we should just forget about this whole thing. I'll get the door fixed without the landlord knowing and we can pretend that none of this happened."

"But!" Wendy protested, twisting out of her brother's grip. He snarled, but let her run and grab Doranbolt's hand. "Mr. Gryder, we can't let you do that. We owe you _something_."

Doranbolt sighed yet again, staring at the swollen eyes in front of him. He couldn't say no to her. He didn't want her crying anymore. "Okay, then how about this. You can…" He thought a moment, trying to think of something that would appease her without trampling past her brother's boundaries. "You can be my friend. We won't go in my apartment at all, nor will we go anywhere besides your house. Does that make you feel better, Wendy?"

"No way." Natsu hissed, but his protest was drowned out by Wendy's screech of approval.

Her enthusiasm seemed to wane once she looked at her brother's reproachful glare. "Ummm, Mr. Gryder, that doesn't really help to pay you back. All it does is put an even bigger burden on you." Wendy sighed, obviously deflated.

"Okay, then. Wendy, I want you to take care of this for me." Doranbolt walked into his kitchen, where a tiny evergreen grew, the kind sold during Christmas time. It had been a gag gift given to him by Lahar. He hadn't thrown it away yet, so it sat in his kitchen collecting dust. He figured that Wendy might want to take care of it.

He walked back towards the entryway to see Wendy and Natsu immersed in a fierce discussion. He awkwardly waited for a few seconds before making his presence known by clearing his throat.

"Well then, Wendy, Natsu, would you two do me the honor of taking care of this plant?" He thrust the evergreen into Wendy's outstretched hands. "I'll check on it next December and if it's still alive, I'll consider your bet paid. Is that a deal?"

Natsu still glared daggers at Doranbolt, but nodded his head. "We'll take care of your stupid plant. It can't be that hard to do."

Wendy simply nodded, honey eyes wide, before skipping to their apartment to put the plant away.

Natsu stretched out his hand to Doranbolt. "Let's shake on it to make it a deal."

"Okay, sounds good to me." Doranbolt replied, grasping the boy's hand firmly. He felt his squeeze his harder than was necessary, but took it with a grain of salt, because this gave him the perfect excuse to visit Wendy anytime.

Natsu broke the handshake and headed back out to the party without saying another word, but still said everything that needed to be said; touch Wendy and die.

"I get the message, loud and clear," Doranbolt whispered to himself, before picking up his cell phone and dialing a number.

"Hey, Lahar, I need a new door ASAP."


	7. Chapter 7

Lahar was taking too long. Didn't he know the meaning of ASAP? As soon as possible, not whenever the hell he feels like showing up with a new door.

It was steadily approaching 3 am and the last of the stragglers were leaving the party. Wendy and her brothers had presumably already gone inside, leaving Doranbolt standing outside alone at 3 am. Not for the first time that night…morning, Doranbolt heaved a heavy sigh. He had fucked up; in so many ways. First there was the door, then the plant, not to mention the appearance of a possible Fairy Tail member. Basically, on his record of worst nights ever, this ranked high on the list.

"Dammit Lahar! Hurry up before I fall asleep standing up." Doranbolt muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. Exhaustion was starting to take hold on his body, leaving him feel sleepy and lethargic. He let his body's tiredness take hold of him, blinking blue eyes slowly.

They shot back open the instant he felt the cold steel of a knife bite into his neck. He let out a strangled gasp as he realized that his own knife wasn't tucked into his pocket, as was customary for him. Instead, it was buried beneath piles of clutter on his dresser. His breath came out in a slow hiss as he tried to think of a way out of this situation. Slowly, he twined his arm into a more favorable position and his body so that when the moment was right, he could strike.

Hot breath fanned over his ear, a dark chuckle carried in the warm wave. "I would kill you before you got a chance to move. You're getting rusty, Doranbolt." The knife was pulled from Doranbolt's throat as his attacker spoke.

Spinning around with an indignant huff, Doranbolt sent a scathing glare to his superior. "You ass! How long have you been waiting for me to let my guard down?"

Lahar let out a drawn-out sigh, tossing his knife into the air, then catching it by the ornate handle. The man then pushed up his glasses with a single finger, then smirked at his subordinate. "Oh, only about 20 minutes. I'm surprised that you didn't even notice my presence. A week without me and you've already lost your edge." With a cheeky grin, he spun the knife once more, catching it with a flurry of movements before slipping it into the pocket of his coat.

Doranbolt fought back the urge to sink his fist into Lahar's face. His childish antics were grating on his already-weary nerves. All Doranbolt wanted to do was sink into his comfy bed and sleep without fear of some idiot barging into his doorless home. "I'm not in the mood today, Lahar. Can I just have the door installed so that I can sleep tonight?"

Like the flip of a switch, Lahar's mood shifted from a mischievous demeanor into the commanding front that he displayed in front of everyone except his closest of friends.

Lahar put his fingers to his lips, emitting a high-pitched whistle. "Jason, I need to door brought up here now." The tone that he used to speak to the boy was reminiscent of a master speaking to a disobedient dog.

"COOOOL!" Was the only response that Doranbolt heard from the unknown man that was bringing his a new door. For a few moments, the clod of his boots upon the metal stairs broke the silence that stretched between Lahar and Doranbolt.

Then, a spire of golden hair bobbed into view, closely followed by a teetering door. Doranbolt could only stare in abject horror at the young man, dressed as if he were some teenaged hippie-wannabe. The pink of his shirt stood out even among the techni-color orange and red swirled in a tie-dye pattern. His hair was styled into one gravity-defying mound, with colorful beads woven into the blonde strands.

"He…" Doranbolt gaped, unable to even describe the man in front of him.

Lahar sighed, folding his hands in front of his chest. "This is because of your reassignment. Guran Doma decided that since my usual partner was on a solo mission, it would be a wonderful opportunity for me to teach the newbie some of the ground rules."

Doranbolt's eyes raked over the man's neon outfit and felt his eyes bulge out of his head. "What!? How did he…?" Lahar cut Doranbolt's whisper off with an elbow to the stomach.

With a deceptively calm motion, Lahar pushed his glasses up the bridge with a single finger, lenses flashing in the light. "If you know what's good for you, you'll shut up. Jason here is Guran Doma's grandson."

This time, Doranbolt was unable to suppress his laughter. His hand quickly flew to his lips as he attempted to hold in his uncontrolled snickers. "You gotta be kidding me. That punk is Guran Doma's grandson.

"COOOOOL! ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT MY COOL GRANDPA? HE'S SO COOOOOOL!"

Lahar shook his head at the boy. "Jason, be quiet please. This is unconfirmed Fairy Tail territory. If you keep yelling, one of might just find a bullet in our skull."

Jason gulped, paling visibly. "Oh." He said in a forced whisper. "I'll just shut up and install the door then." With this statement he pulled out a toolset and began putting the door in position.

Donanbolt just scoffed and shook his head, unbelieving that the old bastard was responsible for bringing this monstrosity into the world, albeit indirectly. "Then Jason, I trust you to take care of the door while Lahar discus the Intel that I've gained."

"COOOOOOL! YOU'VE GOT SOME COOOOL INTEL! MY GRANDPA'S GOING TO BE SO HAPPY! COOOOOOOOOOL!"

"Jason, quiet. Remember, Fairy Tail territory?" Lahar reprimanded, whilst pushing Doranbolt through the door's threshold. Once the sound of a hammer drowned out any sound that Lahar and Doranbolt could make, Lahar let loose a sigh of relief. "Damn. I never thought I could hate someone as much as I hate that kid. He's so annoying. Why the hell is he always yelling about how cool things are?" Muttering, Lahar continued darkly, "I wonder how 'cool' he thinks it is when he's bleeding profusely from multiple stab wounds?"

Doranbolt smirked, offering a consoling punch to Lahar's arm. "At least a pair of fighting teenagers didn't break your door when you were in the middle of observation."

Lahar chuckled, "Our lives suck."

"I couldn't agree more." Doranbolt affirmed with a nod.

When silence fell upon them from lack of more small talk, Lahar broke it with a question. "So, did you manage to get any Inter on Fairy Tail at all? Or is it too early to say anything?"

Doranbolt was about to respond in the negative when his memory struck up the image of the shirtless boy, Fairy Tail emblem stark against the pale flesh. "Actually, there might actually be some Fairy Tail activity around here. One of the punks that broke down my door had it stamped on his chest."

"Really? I thought that this was just a wild goose hunt. To think you were actually sent on an important mission without me. Now I'm jealous, man. I might have to kill you and take your glory and renewed ranking." Lahar stated this with a completely still face, no twitches in his expression or voice to hint that he was kidding. Doranbolt knew that Lahar was just messing, but his complete lack of any sarcasm still unnerved him.

"You've though that out a little too well. You better not try and kill me or I'll suggest that Jason be your permanent partner."

Lahar clutched Doranbolt's arm. "I promise I won't kill you. Please, don't leave me alone with _him_ any longer. Just find the dragons, kill them, and come back to me."

"Yes, sir" Doranbolt saluted mockingly. "I'll finish this assignment as quickly as possible. I hate it even more than you do."

Before Lahar could reply, a shout of exhilaration could be heard outside, "COOOOOOOOL. I FINISHED PUTTING TO DOOR BACK ON. I'M THE COOLEST REPAIRMAN EVER."

"I don't think it's possible to hate anything more than I hate my life right now." Lahar muttered, face palming his forehead in agitation.

"I think you should go back to babysitting before Jason ruins my cover. Enjoy your babysitting job, Lahar. I'm sure that Guran Doma is proud of you right now." Doranbolt taunted.

Pouting, Lahar said in a scathing tone, "I hate you. Maybe I will kill you after all." Lahar huffed, dragging himself out of the newly fixed door."

"Till next time" Doranbolt screeched in an overly-enthusiastic tone, voice carrying through the door that blockaded his vision of Lahar.

The door opened and a single hand popped through, sporting a raised middle finger. Then the door shut and the sound of two pairs of feet on the metal stairs was all that remained of Doranbolt's night visitors.


	8. Chapter 8

_Twin pools of chocolate met his gaze, a haze of tears obscuring the warmth that should fill their depths. Tanned fingers reached out to caress a tear-streaked cheek, beads of moisture wetting his finger._

"_Wendy, please don't cry." Doranbolt crooned, pressing his cheek into her blue locks. He could feel her lithe body trembling beneath him and he felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest. His arms reached to twine around her back, her soft navy hair tickling his exposed arms. He squeezed her comfortingly, feeling her breath hitch at the unexpected contact._

"_Shhh. I'm here. You're okay." His hand ran down her hair, the fine strands wrapping around his fingers like vines. _

_Thick, nubby vines curled around his fingers, preventing any movement. A ghastly moan, nothing like Wendy's soft voice, spilled from her mouth. Thick sulfurous smog blew from her lips in billowing waves, suffocating Doranbolt with its nauseating vapor. He tried to pull his hands away, only to find them completely immobilized by the green growth that was once Wendy's hair._

"_Don't lie Doranbolt. You weren't there for me." The thing that was once Wendy hissed, the odor of death wafting from her now bloodied mouth. Her face had contorted into that of a gristly corpse, rotting flesh peeling from her skin and revealing the yellowed bones beneath. The only thing vaguely human about her was the deep brown of her eyes, still shining with unshed tears. _

"_Doranbolt. Don't leave me. Please. DORANBOLT!" The figure emitted a blood-curdling scream, leaving Doranbolt's ears ringing with unrecognizable deja-vu._

_Suddenly, Doranbolt was kneeling on the ground, clutching a tiny figure to his chest. Sticky warmth seeped through his clothes, staining the cloth a grotesque crimson. Small sobs wracked the figure and small, terror-filled eyes gazed at him through the mask of tears. _

"_Doranbolt. Don't leave me. Please." The girl whispered to him, her black hair falling into her eyes. _

_Doranbolt felt guilt well up in his stomach, grief crippling him more than any blow could. "Katja." He whispered, pressing the girl to his chest more tightly. A gurgle escaped her lips and blood frothed at her mouth._

"_DORANBOLT!" she screamed, face contorting in agony. "It hurts."_

_Her voice soon resorted to weak whimpers and Doranbolt could only stare in horror as the life slowly drained from her eyes; life that, like the blood spilling from the gash on her chest, was seeping out of her body every minute._

_As the last glimmer of life left her eyes, her body was consumed by flames. Red tendrils of fire devoured her flesh, spewing smoke into Doranbolt's eyes. He closed them in an effort to prevent the stinging, but there was nothing that he could do for the tears that continued to slide down his cheeks. _

_When he wrenched his eyes open again, he found himself meeting gazes with the fiery black beads of a red dragon. It grinned, holding the charred remains of a corpse in its scarlet claws. A maniac laugh tore from its throat, harsh and abrasive on Doranbolt's ears. It opened its maw, sending jets of flame into the sky. The flames melded and contorted, taking shape with each new spurt that flew from the dragon's gaping jaw._

_The Fairy Tail symbol burned against the grey sky, sending sparks showering from its girth. With the dying flames, Doranbolt's resolve hardened. With an angered scream, he yelled to the now empty sky, "FAIRY TAIL! I'll get you for this." He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "When I find you Dragon King, I'm going to kill you."_

Doranbolt awoke with a gasp, sweat pouring down his spine. The remnants of tears still lingered in his eyes and he wrenched his arm across his eyes to rid himself of them.

The dreams were getting worse. They were evolving, becoming more painful than they had even been before. There was only one way to rid himself of the raw ache that resided inside of his chest.

He had to find the Dragon King and kill him, just like the Dragon had murdered his beloved sister.

A/N

Wow. This came out quickly. It's been a while since I felt a chapter like this. I think that it is because of all my lovely readers! This story has gotten a lot more support than I ever thought it would and you all really inspired me to get more out. So, I finished and edited this in one night.

I hope you don't mind a little Doranbolt angst. As much fun as it is to write the funny parts, the angsty parts need to come in order to develop the story. The story is slowly piecing itself together, one chapter at a time.

And for those of you that are anxious for the romance part, don't worry, its coming. I just need to set up the situation a little before I can get to that. And Doranbolt needs to stop obsessing over his inner pedophile, which might take a bit. He's is a little stubborn.

So, without further ado, I leave you. Have a great day!


	9. Chapter 9

It almost felt serene. In that moment, all that mattered was the adrenaline that burned like fire in his veins, the feel of flesh against his fist, and the quick, darting motion of dodging a punch. He felt the urge to close his eyes and let his body move for him, however taking his eyes off of his adversaries could prove to be unwise.

An olive fist swung toward his head, with too much speed to dodge. Doranbolt quickly put his hands up in a block, and felt the punch glance off his skin. The man looked stunned that his swing hadn't done any damage, so Doranbolt took that opportunity to retaliate.

He swept his legs under the man's knees, sending him tumbling face-first into the dirt. His eyes remained vigilant, scanning for any movement from the man lying on the ground or from his partner. Just as he suspected, his assailant's partner took that opportunity to rush forward, a dagger gleaming in his hand.

Doranbolt flipped backwards, his own knife drawn. He was sure to keep it away from his abdomen as he spun, but when a flash of orange hair caught his eyes, he thrust the blade forward. There was a pained grunt, followed shortly by sticky warmth that oozed onto Doranbolt's hand. He withdrew his hand, shaking off the crimson blood dotted upon his hand. It smeared in brownish streaks, turning his tanned skin a bloody brown.

His blue eyes darted to the two figures that lay on the ground, analyzing both of their chests. Both men breathed, but were still incapacitated enough for Doranbolt to retreat without fear of a counterattack. He thought of slitting the men's throats to ensure his own safety, but a tiny sliver of morality peeked through. The boys were just barely in their twenties, too young for their lives to be robbed by a greater foe. Besides, he held no grudge with them personally. They were just doing their job, like Doranbolt.

Doranbolt sighed, walking over to the one whom he had stabbed. On a hushed whisper, he muttered, "I hope Fairy Tail's famous healer finds you. Without her help, you'll die and there would have been no point in me sparing your life."

That being said, he retrieved his knife from the man's stomach, wiping the stained blade on the other man's sleeve to cleanse it of blood. He sent the boys one more fleeting glance before getting to his feet and hiding his dagger within the confines of his jacket.

In one motion, he pulled a dark baseball cap over his head and slotted his blood-stained hands inside of his pockets. Now that he was unrecognizable, he finally set off for his apartment to destroy any evidence of his involvement in the crime.

"Whacha gonna do now, Fairy Tail. Your little bloodhounds are gone and my trail's gone cold. Good luck hiding your precious Dragon King from me now." Doranbolt whispered into the silent streets. Nothing could wipe the satisfied smirk off of his face now that there was one less obstacle blocking his path to revenge.


	10. Chapter 10

A slight, almost inaudible tap jolted Doranbolt awake. He retrieved his knife from beneath his pillow, shielding his tired body instinctively. When a quick scan around the room revealed an empty apartment, he relaxed his hold on the weapon and let it clatter harmlessly to the floor. He then raised his hands to rub the remnants of sleep from his eyes and blinked the last of sleep's cloak away from himself.

He had almost forgotten why he had awoken in such a panicked state until the quiet tap sounded yet again. It took a moment before he could place the sound, and when he did, confusion coursed through him. "Who's knocking on my door?" He whispered, pulling a hand through sleep-mussed strands of raven hair.

He walked hesitantly to the front door, not bothering to change his rumpled clothes from the day before. Most likely, it was Lahar, come to annoy him some more. Honestly, that man had absolutely no sense of boundaries. He opened the door, preparing himself for the inevitable surprise attack from his superior. What Doranbolt didn't expect was twin pools of chocolate staring at him with a mixture of shy awe and brash confidence.

"Wendy?" Doranbolt gasped, blinking a few times to assure himself that this wasn't a figment of his imagination. Even after he cleared his eyes, there she stood, blue hair gently waving in the bitter breeze that blew from outside.

He regained his senses as the cold autumn wind caressed his bare arm, sending shivers flying up his arm. Doranbolt darted his glance towards Wendy's bare arms and suppressed another shudder of cold. She had to be freezing with her skirt barely covering her kneecaps.

Before his mind could stop him, Doranbolt leaned back and beckoned to the child in front of his door. "Hey, come on in. It's a lot warmer in here than out there. Besides, now that I've got a door, I have to put it to use. Protecting next door neighbors from the cold is in the job description."

The faintest tint of a blush brightened her cheeks and her only response was a meek nod. All of the confidence that had been shining in her eyes had receded into their brown depths, which now only reflected anxiousness and discomfort. Her gaze darted around the room, as if assessing all possible escape routes. It made him happy that she was considering her every option, yet it also worried him. Just how many hardships has she endured, forcing her to check the houses of her neighbors for possible escape routes?

Doranbolt lay across his faded couch, gesturing to Wendy to follow suit. She sat herself rigidly in a leather chair, back stiff and eyes still alert.

"Hey, kid, relax. I don't bite." Doranbolt crooned, attempting to quell the rising anxiety in Wendy.

She smiled tightly at him before heaving a large sigh. "Sorry Mr. Gryder. There's just…been a lot happening lately. You can't ever be too cautious."

When Doranbolt regarded her face once more, he noticed the black smudge of restlessness beneath her eyes. Her head hung heavy with weariness, as if her very soul had been exhausted to the very core. All in all, Wendy emulated fragility.

Doranbolt wanted to crush her tiny body to his chest, to feel her fatigued head lean into him and slip into a deep, unencumbered sleep. His body leaned forward as if to act on his wish, but soon his consciousness snapped at him and reined him in. Instead, he a stuck in an awkward pose, unable to continue his momentum because of moral obligation and unable to sink back into the couch due to the need to be closer to her that pulsed through his entire being.

"I agree with that. The world can be dangerous at times." As he spoke those words, Doranbolt's mind flickered to the two youths that he had left for dead in a decrepit alley way. Yes. The world was a dangerous place. That was why he wanted to shied Wendy from the horrors of reality. "But if you get too anxious about everything, you'll never be happy. The only thing you get from fear is more fear."

Her eyes narrowed at him slightly and her tiny fists clenched at her sides. She trembled as she spoke, obviously angered by his paternalistic words. "Don't talk to me like I'm a little kid. I've seen a lot of stuff that most people only see in their worst nightmares. I've endured things that you can't even begin to imagine. So… don't talk down to me…please."

By the end of her tirade, her voice had lowered to a simper and her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. This time, Doranbolt didn't stop his body's movement. He rushed forward, pulling her into an embrace.

One hand curved comfortingly around her back, pressing her shivering figure further into his chest. The other hand rested atop the smooth crown of her head, stroking the wind-tossed strands soothingly. "I didn't mean it like that, Wendy. I just don't want you to be scared of anything."

Her only response was the wracking of her frame as she let out a hitching sob. Doranbolt felt wetness seep into the shoulder of his shirt and knew that it was due to the tears that now cascaded down her cheeks.

"Shhh, Shhh. There's no need to cry. I don't know anything about your past; I had no right to judge you. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings." Panic was starting to rush through Doranbolt's veins as he attempted to comfort the child now clasped in his arms. He had never really dealt with children before, let alone crying ones.

He gently pulled her head away from his chest while still keeping contact with the rest of her body. The hand that was once atop her head now pushed the fringe of her bangs from her tear-soaked skin. He tucked it behind her ear, keeping it away from her face. Then, without thinking, he brought the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone, wiping away the silver stream of water that had collected there.

"M…Mr. Gryder?" Wendy whimpered, attempting to pull away from his grasp.

He stilled her weak struggling with a tiny bit of force added to the hand on her back, not meant to be threatening, but meaning to keep the warmth of her body flush against his. "Shhhhh, don't call me that. I'm not old, remember? Call me Mest."

She squirmed from his grasp, standing a few feet away from him awkwardly. "Mest…I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I…I'm just being stupid."

"You're not stupid. And I wasn't bothered. Just…Don't cry. When you cry, I feel sad too." Doranbolt was tripping over words. He couldn't find the right thing to say to her. It seemed that she was getting more and more upset with each passing moment.

"I need to go. My brothers are probably worried about me. I… I*'ll see you later Mr. Gr… I mean Mest." Wendy fled his apartment, the door slamming shut behind her with a loud crack. Doranbolt had only caught a brief glimpse of her face as she was fleeing, but he was certain that a new trail of tears had etched itself into her face

He stared stupidly around the room, unsure of what to do with himself now. Doranbolt felt strangely cold now that the warmth of her body had left him. His arms felt heavy and useless, too bothersome to lift. Without Wendy in his arms, Doranbolt felt…empty.

He was throwing himself deeper and deeper into a rapidly widening abyss, drowning in the feelings that even he didn't fully comprehend. All that he knew was that he wouldn't let Wendy escape from him. If he lost her now, he would lose the tiny fragment of a soul that still resided inside of him.


	11. Chapter 11

There was a soft mewling sound, followed by scratching, emanating from Doranbolt's bathroom. Why the hell were there noises coming from his bathroom?

Doranbolt let out a shaky breath in an attempt to dispel the irrational fear that pulled at his brain. There was nothing to be afraid of. There were just rats in his apartment. It was a dilapidated building. Rats are completely normal in an old building.

Doranbolt shrieked, jumping in terror when he heard a sound from the bathroom. Oh God! His apartment was haunted! He felt the urge to pee, but he couldn't. The _thing _was that was in his home was currently guarding his bathroom.

Wait a second. Only one person knew that he was completely terrified of ghosts. "L…La…Lahar. I…If you're messing w…with me, I…I'll k…kill you. And it'll be p…painful, got it."

The only response that he received was the crashing of what he could only assume to be his toiletries. Doranbolt considered calling Lahar to get rid of the _thing_ that was in his bathroom, but decided against it. If he called in too many ridiculous favors, Lahar wouldn't let it rest the rest of his life. Doranbolt was on his own for this one. He breathed deeply, attempting to gain the nerve to rid his house of his unwanted visitor. He took his first step toward the bathroom, braced for the worst when…

A shrill ring sounded from his door. This time, Doranbolt didn't shriek at the noise. He screamed. Doranbolt, a 28 year old man, screamed like a little girl at the sound of the doorbell.

There was some frantic knocking and the sound of the door being pulled open, but Doranbolt paid it no mind. He was too terrified to move.

It was only when two navy pigtails appeared before him that he felt the fear drain away, only to be replaced with mortification. His pale cheeks soon colored with embarrassment and he felt the urge to run away. There was no way this was happening. Not to _him_.

"Umm, Mr. Gryder, is everything alright?" Wendy inquired, eyes shifting nervously from his form to the gaping door, as if she was prepared to bolt at any second.

Doranbolt took a deep breath and attempted to quell the pounding in his heart. "Y…yeah. Of course I'm al…alright." He stammered, leaning against a wall to prevent the shaking in his knees from being too obvious.

She shuffled her feet awkwardly from side to side, her ponytails swinging along with her. She painted the perfect picture of ill-disguised unease. "Oh…okay, then."

A tense silence fell, straining between the two of them. Doranbolt attempted to break it, his quivering voice ringing loudly in the silent room. "Yeah…so…" He stumbled for words, until a thought struck him. "Wait. What are you doing in my house?"

She blushed, pigtails swinging as she attempted to cover her face with her hands. "  
Ummm, well…ya see…" She gulped, eyes scanning the apartment in a similar manner to when she had last been there. "It's the same reason as when I came here before. My brother, Natsu, he sort of…lost his cat."

Of all the responses that Doranbolt expected, that was the farthest from his mind. Bewildered, he repeated, more to himself than Wendy, "He lost his cat?"

She nodded, head bobbing comically, hair flying with her movement. "Yeah. So, have you seen any stray cats around here? Gajeel said that you were an author, so you almost never leave the house. So, I figured that you would be the best person to ask. So, have you?" her words poured out in such quick succession that Doranbolt almost couldn't understand what she was saying.

"No, I haven't seen any cats, sorry." Then, her entire statement hit him. In indignation, he cried. "And, why the hell does Gajeel know my occupation?"

At his statement, her entire demeanor changed. She visibly stiffened, shoulders pulled taunt, as if she was braced to flee at any minute. Her eyes narrowed, focusing to the finiteness of a razor blade. "Well, you see…"

Her explanation was cut off by the sound of something large falling in the bathroom.

Doranbolt, of course, couldn't suppress the scream that tore from his lips. Wendy instead turned her sharp gaze toward the bathroom door. She looked at it contemplatively before surging forward in one quick step. Before Doranbolt could stop her, she had already wrenched the door open and strode boldly into the room.

"Wait!" Doranbolt shouted, albeit late. "I don't know what's in there."

His only response was an indecipherable shriek.

Without thinking, he ran into the bathroom. His knife was drawn within the blink of an eyes the hilt sitting comfortably in his hand. He brandished his weapon as he burst into the bathroom, eyes frantically scanning for any source of danger. What he saw, however, was far from what he expected…

Wendy held a small, neon blue animal pressed to her chest. It snuggled into her embrace, a loud purr resounding through the bathroom.

"What the hell is that?" Doranbolt yelled, knife still in his hand. He felt like an idiot, brandishing a weapon because of an animal. He subtly slipped it into his pocket, hoping that Wendy hadn't seen the dagger.

She giggled, cuddling the creature even closer to her chest. "This is Happy." She beamed, as if that explained everything.

"I don't care how it feels. I want it out of my house." Doranbolt looked around the bathroom, evaluating the extent of the damage that the beast had wreaked upon his bathroom. Toothpaste was smeared on the walls, its container lying in a shredded heap of plastic in the middle of the floor. The shower curtain had been torn off the bar and was draped over the tub, visible claw marks marring the cloth. His toiletries were scattered and somehow, his toothbrush had ended up floating in the toilet. Yes, Doranbolt _really_ wanted the menace out of his house.

She shook her head at him, picking the thing up and shoving it in Doranbolt's face. "This is Natsu's cat. His name is Happy."

"That is not a cat. It's blue. Cats aren't blue." Doranbolt retorted, shrinking away from the creature's wide-eyed stare.

She looked sheepish, embracing the cat before speaking again. "Natsu kinda… dyed him blue."

To say Doranbolt was flabbergasted would be an understatement. "You're trying to tell me that your brother actually dyed his cat blue. What point is there to dyeing a cat, please enlighten me, because that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."

"When he was dyeing his own hair pink, Happy got into the box of dyes and was turned partially pink. Natsu wanted him to look manlier, so he purchased some blue dye. Now, Happy is blue."

Doranbolt just blinked rapidly, jaw agape. He had no response to this newfound information.

Meanwhile, Wendy got off of the floor and headed out, car in hand. She opened the door and quietly let herself out, unsure how to handle the man currently frozen in the middle of his own bathroom. She would have to come back and apologize to him later.

Then, she sighed. It looked like her family was indebted to him yet again. She tried to glare at Happy angrily, but found her gaze faltering when he reached one paw up and batted at her nose. She giggled, opening the door to her apartment and depositing the cat inside.

Wendy leaned against the wall, attempting to think. This time, he wasn't going to let them get away with property damage easily. This time, she was going to take matters into her own hands. With fierce conviction, she shouted to the empty house. "Tomorrow, I'm going to pay Mr. Gryder back in full, whether Natsu likes it or not."

_A/N Whew, I finally go this chapter out. Sorry for the delay, guys, I had a major case of Writer's block. Not to mention, i had almost no access to a computer. But, sheer willpower has prevailed, so that I may publish this. All of your reviews really pushed me through, so thank you. Without you guys, I would have given up on this story a long time ago._


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N. I usually don't do author's notes at the beginning of each post, but I feel that this one is necessary. _

**_Warning_**_: This chapter contains romantic interaction between a legal adult and a minor. If you have read this far, I expect that you understand that, however, to be clear, I will not tolerate flames for the sake of the content. This is the first and final warning. If you disapprove of fiction that portrays pedophilia, this is your chance to leave. If not, please enjoy. Sincerely, hipeople24._

Just as Doranbolt was stepping outside of his apartment, a small body collided with his. He jumped at the contact before staring perplexedly at the girl lying in a heap at his knees. She shook her long blue tresses of hair from her chocolate eyes, patting away the dirt from her small blue and yellow dress.

"Wendy?" Doranbolt asked, peering at the child below him.

Her eyes looked solemn as she stood up and spoke to him in a cool, detached manner. "It's a good thing that I caught you. We have…" She paused, eyes wide with uncertainty for a second before she hardened them and stated, "I have to pay you back for the damage Happy did to your apartment."

"You…What?" Was all that he managed to spew out, confusion clouding his consciousness.

Both gaze and voice were firm as she repeated herself once more. "I need to pay you back for the damage Happy did to your apartment."

Doranbolt's mind was frantically twisting itself into knots as he attempted to understand this new obstacle. He couldn't accept her offer, it was immoral and wrong and… "Just what sort of payment did you have in mind?"

She faltered, as if she hadn't thought this far in advance. "I…ugh…Well, I was thinking that…"

He silenced her with a finger, pressing lightly against her quivering lips. They were soft and warm; he could feel her balmy breath puffing against his fingertips. The temptation to press his lips to hers was overwhelming. Doranbolt pulled away, his finger still tingling with the rise and fall of Wendy's small chest. "It's fine, Wendy. You don't have to pay me back. It was an honest mistake."

"Look at the plant." She said suddenly, tiny hand darting out to pull his arm towards her apartment.

"What?" Doranbolt's head was spinning. Her hand was unintentionally interwoven in his. He could feel each twitch of her lithe fingers. She was futilely attempting to pull him towards her apartment, however her tiny body was unable to budge his larger one.

"You need to look at your plant. Remember, it's our payment." Her eyes seemed to shine in the cloudy light. He couldn't deny her. He wouldn't deny her. Doranbolt's legs moved of their own accord, footsteps resonating on the concrete. The gaping maw of the door swung closer in his vision, its unknown depths beckoning him as much as her insistent tugging was.

"I guess I can take a quick look." He muttered, voice shrinking with each step that he took forward.

He crossed the threshold, his vision plunging into darkness. He thrashed around a bit, disorientation controlling his writhing limbs. Then, with a sudden flash of clarity, he could see the entryway spread before him.

It was a lot like his own apartment, tiny and filled with the feeling of dilapidation; however, it held another, brighter emotion, as if the happiness and joy that Wendy's family projected had been absorbed by this apartment, only to be reflected in warmth that was indubitable.

A small evergreen sat in the light of a window, its sharp boughs shimmering with an ethereal light. Its green needles looked full and healthy, shining with the vibrancy that emanated throughout the apartment. He ran his fingers along the waxy leaves, almost unbelieving at the transformation that had overtaken the plant. In awe, he said "This looks really good, Wendy."

She beamed, joining him by the window. Murky, cloud-blocked filtered through the window, accentuating each and every strand of navy hair. Half of her face fell into shadow, while the other half shone brightly like a beacon. Doranbolt wanted to pull her into the light fully, but found himself unable to find a reasonable excuse to do so. "Thanks, Mr. Gryder." She whispered, small hands gently clasping around a green bough.

"It's Mest, silly." He whispered back, unintentionally leaning closer towards Wendy. He watched as her ochre eyes closed, lashes fluttering as she blinked.

She turned away from him, facing the window wistfully. "Sorry, Mest." Light filtered through closed blinds as she drew them, the clicking of plastic strips the only sound between them. She then walked away from the window, folding her legs atop the worn cloth couch instead. She gestured for him to sit, patting the cushion beside her. He dutifully obliged, plopping down next to her. "So, Mest, how do you want me to pay you? I'm doing my best to take care of your plant, so I can handle whatever you want me to do."

He cradled his head in his hands, carding his hair through twitching fingers. "Please don't ask that of me. If you keep asking me like that, I'll do something that we'll both regret."

His warning did little to caution her. She instead leaned in closer to him, soft strands of cobalt tickling his exposed arm. Doranbolt did his best to stifle a groan.

She seemed unable to sense the growing tension, as she inquired softly, "Why will I regret it? I'm trying to do the right thing"

Deep pools of cerulean blazed behind shielding hands. He husked out softly, "Wendy, How old are you."

She tilted her head, confusion etching itself into her childish features. "I'm 12." She stated, bewildered by the sudden change of topic. "Why do you ask?"

Doranbolt had reached his breaking point. He couldn't stand the torture anymore. She was so close that he could smell the scent of the wind on her. She was so close. He could just reach down and…

Battle-calloused hands reached down, gently grasping her chin. The skin beneath his fingers was soft and smooth and unblemished and perfect. Her breath hitched, but she made no move to retreat from his grasp. Her eyes shone in confusion, her innocence and naivety more apparent in those chocolate depths. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to the smooth expanse of her forehead. Now, she was quivering beneath him, fingers clenching in his shirt, digging sharply into his skin. The pain only made the situation foggier, his mind unable to distance itself enough to think his situation through.

"I'm going to hell" He murmured, before connecting his lips with hers.

She was so small beneath him. Her body trembled violently as she curled into him, her body coiling between his chest and his thighs. She clutched onto him tightly, but still made no move to return the kiss.

He unsealed their mouths, ending the chaste kiss. At the separation, her mouth opened questioningly. She immediately closed it again, pressing a lithe finger to her lips.

Doranbolt stumbled backwards, his own hand flying up to his tingling lips. His heart raced, pounding painfully against his heaving chest. "I…I…I'm so sorry." He managed to stutter out, face aflame in a mixture of arousal and embarrassment.

Another faltering step and he was against the door, the cool metal handle ice cold in comparison to his heated flesh.

"M…Mest, wait!" She cried, throwing herself towards him. He slammed the door behind him, lurching haphazardly toward the sanctuary of his own apartment.

He slammed this door behind him too, leaning against the solid wooden frame. His breath came out in short, painful pants, the very act of breathing burning his lungs. Panic rose in his throat, along with the sickening taste of bile. It scalded his throat, hot waves of liquid blocked only by his contorting throat muscles.

He collapsed, boneless, against the door, head touching his knees. His entire body quaked with suppressed panic.

He had actually kissed Wendy. His whole career was on the line now. If the cops showed up now, he would be ill-prepared to face them down.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

He rummaged in his pockets, pulling out a small metallic box. He held the 1 button down on his phone, relief hitting him when he heard the dial tone.

Dizziness took him over and sent him spinning to the floor. With one croaking groan, he managed to husk out one word before falling into unconciosness, "Lahar."

The thump of his body hitting the floor was all that was heard over the receiver.


	13. Chapter 13

Doranbolt awoke to the sound of a door slamming. Immediately, his knife was in his hand, lips pulled back into a deadly snarl. He was more dangerous than he had ever been before, his sanity on the brink of collapsing.

"Who's there?" he growled, ears alert for the slightest of sounds. Off to his right, a soft rustle sounded. With the shout of a madman, he lunged toward the noise, dagger plunging into soft flesh. There was a sickening squelch, along with a grunted moan of pain. Blood poured onto the hilt of his weapon, making his hold slippery and insecure.

"Lahar!" The victim suddenly screamed, thrashing around in Doranbolt's grasp. The blade sliced deeper with his frantic movement, coppery blood sloshing about the room in his struggle.

Doranbolt's numbed senses attempted to quell the sudden apprehension that curled in his gut. Something about the entire situation seemed…off.

The epiphany came just as the cool steel of a knife caressed the column of his throat. A deep, threatening voice whispered in his ear, the humid breath sending shivers down Doranbolt's spine. "Let go of Jason now, Doranbolt. If you don't, I'll have to slit your throat and I would rather if I didn't kill my best friend.

In hurried, frantic movements, Doranbolt let his blade clatter to the ground. As soon as he was unarmed, Lahar lowered his own weapon, focus instead on the bleeding boy in front of him. Both Doranbolt and Lahar knelt to the ground in order to inspect the damage.

The blond held his left arm, a jagged wound staining the pale skin. Blood seeped from the gash, sticky and wet.

"Shit." Doranbolt cursed, hysterically searching the surrounding area for his first aid kit. "Jason, I'm so sorry. I swear I didn't know it was you. I thought that…" Doranbolt trailed off, unable to explain to the injured man that he had thought that one of Wendy's brothers had sought him out to kill him.

"Dude, this is soooo uncool." The injured man grunted, a forced smile contorting his lips. "I can't believe I couldn't dodge you."

Doranbolt also smiled weakly, handing his emergency kit to Lahar. "Well, I've always been fast. Most people can't dodge me."

"Touché my friend. You do have a pretty cool reputation around the Council.

Lahar smacked the back of Jason's head lightly, his patronizing gaze overshadowed by the concern etched all over his face. "Dumbass, you have to keep your mouth shut in enemy territory. Do you want Fairy Tail to kill Doranbolt?"

The blond had the decency to look sheepish, his uninjured hand running along the length of his blond spire. "Oh yeah, sorry, that wasn't cool at all. I kinda forgot why we were here."

"Pft. You really are a dumbass." Lahar scoffed, ill-disguised affection on his face as he ruffled the golden spire atop his head.

"Heeey. That wasn't cool, man. Now my cool hair's ruined." Jason cried, attempting to pull the flattened strands back upwards.

"It looks 'cooler' down, anyways." Lahar deadpanned, his fingers working quickly to disinfect the other man's wound. Jason winced at the application of antiseptic, but otherwise, he made no objection.

"I agree with Lahar, actually." Doranbolt interjected, feeling left out of their conversation. "Also, the big pile of hair makes you more conspicuous. If you left it down, you could complete missions easier and with less possible witnesses."

"Ha! I told you." Lahar exclaimed, briefly looking up from the wound to gloat. He raised his palm, holding it towards Doranbolt for a high five. Doranbolt met his hand halfway, the sound of skin against skin reverberating throughout the room. Jason just pouted, frowning down at Lahar as he went back to fixing up the gash on the blond's arm.

There was a period of silence in the room as Lahar sutured rudimentary stitches and applied bandages. When Lahar was finally done, he let go of the other male's arm and busied himself with reaffixing the first aid kit. Finally, he broke the silence with an inquiry. "So, Doranbolt, what happened, anyway? When you called, you seemed to be on the verge of collapse. Did you get dangerous information or something?"

Doranbolt froze like a deer in headlights, his blue eyes widening at Lahar's questioning gaze. His mind spun in an attempt to think of an adequate excuse. He couldn't tell Lahar that he had…

"One of the kids next door threatened me, the one that hung out with the one wearing the Fairy Tail mark. Now that I think about it though, I don't think he was serious. It was a false alarm. Sorry for calling you all the way out here."

Lahar glared pensively at Doranbolt, trying to scope out the lie in his words. "But your fine now?" He finally asked.

"Y…Yeah" Doranbolt managed to spit out, nerves causing his brain to short circuit. Mentally, he crossed his fingers, hoping that Lahar believed him.

Lahar sent him one last scathing gaze before dragging Jason by the collar and headed towards the door. As he approached Doranbolt, however, he leant over and whispered into his ear. "I'll let this slide for now, but next time you had better tell me the truth. Or else…" He left the sentence to trail off, warning Doranbolt with one last scathing look. Then, he opened the door, pushed Jason through, and slammed the door, his threat hanging heavily in the air.

_A/N Wow. It sure has been a while since I last updated this. Sorry everyone. But now, I should have more free time and updates should be more frequent. Also, I know where this is going now, so it should be smoother to write._


	14. Chapter 14

Wendy was at his door. Again. Every day, for the last week, she had come home from school and knocked on his door, her tiny fists flurrying across the wood in a sharp staccato. And every day, Doranbolt ignored her, ignored the dull throb inside of his chest that rose and fell with the frantic rhythm emanating from his doorway.

"Mest, please open the door." A small voice pleaded, the drumming on his door halting for just a moment. "Mest, I know you're in there. Open up, please."

With each passing day, the timbre of her voice grew hoarser with desperation and the pounding upon his door became more insistent.

It hurt to ignore her.

"Go away, Wendy." He cried out, his hands muffling his words. His body shook with restraint, his legs jumping smasmodically.

More thumps ensued. "No. I wanna talk to you. Please, Mr. Mest. Don't leave me out here all alone." Choked sobs sounded from outside the door, accompanied by the sound of a small body sliding against the grain of the door. "Please just talk to me Mest. I'll do anything, please."

His body moved of its own accord, his legs stretching and striding to the door without his brain's permission. The knob was cool in his hand as he twisted it with a click, the door swinging inwards.

A navy-haired girl tumbled over at the sudden loss of support, her face colliding with cool concrete. Wordlessly, Doranbolt offered her his hand, which she gratefully accepted. The tiny appendage was chilled in his hand, cooling his hot palms with its mere presence.

"Come inside. We can talk in there." He rasped out, voice hoarse with nervousness.

She nodded, tugging his still-attached hand towards the couch in the center of his apartment.

They sat down in silence, facing one another. On Doranbolt's part, his gaze was filled with weary apprehension. Hers, on the other hand, was filled with innocence and purity and naivety...

Oh god, this was not going to end well.

She began meekly, "Mest, I..."

"Wendy, I am so sorry. Just pretend that our kiss never happened. It was a moment of weakness on my part and I have no excuse for my actions. I don't care if you hate me. You can hit me, do whatever you want to me. I won't be mad at you, no matter what you choose to do..."

Small, insistent lips upon his stole the rest of his sentence. During his tirade, she had crawled into his lap, curling against his chest. Her fingers were knotted in the fabric of his shirt, her tiny fingers burning crescents in his chest.

His resolve melted the second their lips connected. Careful of her tiny body, he shifted her so that she sat fully in his lap, her arms around his broad chest in an immoral embrace. He stared into her chocolate eyes for a second before long lashes fluttered shut and a blush dusted across her cheeks.

Slowly, Wendy pulled away from Doranbolt, eyes wide. Her blush was even more prominent now, staining even the tips of her ears a deep scarlet.

His lips felt empty without hers. He tried to speak, but his words had failed him. She stared at him inquiringly, yet even her gaze couldn't pull the words from his lips.

She began, nerves eminent in her tone. "I...I" she faltered, unable to voice the tumultuous thoughts whirring inside if her head.

Doranbolt gently pressed the palm of his hand to her head, fingers entangling themselves inside of the silky strands. "Are you sure about this, Wendy? This...this isn't right. Society doesn't..."

She interrupted him once more, her voice firm with resolve. "I don't care what society says. I like being around you. If that's wrong, I'll stop doing what others think is right."

Doranbolt sighed heavily, regretful of his side of the argument. Dissuading her from a relationship with his was all that mattered, even more than his own happiness. "What about your brothers, Wendy? There's no way that they'll accept this."

This stopped her for a moment, a thoughtful look creeping into her eyes. Finally, she mumbled, "They don't have to know. They're gone all the time anyway; hiding this from them can't be that hard. Besides," Her tone gained a desperate edge, her words dripping with urgency that cut deeply into his heart. "I... Mest, I love you. I don't want you to leave me, ever."

A bitter-sweet taste welled in his mouth at her words. The situation had already spiraled well out of his control. All that was left at this point was to ride the wave to his own demise. "Alright Wendy, I'll give this a try. Just remember, though, at the slightest sight of trouble..."

He was cut off by an enthusiastic squeal and a powerful squeeze, the fervor in her embrace knocking the air from his lungs. Blue lashes fluttered, brown eyes wide with excitement. "Mest, thank you. This means a lot to me."

He brought his lips to her cheek in a chaste peck, causing her to giggle. Huskily, he said, "It means more to me, Wendy."

For a while, they both sat in silence, enthralled by the other's presence. They took comfort in the companionship that the other offered, taking sanctuary in one another. It was only when the sun dipped below the horizon that Wendy reluctantly headed home, her eyes drifting to the figure that watched her with lidded eyes from the couch. When they both fell asleep that night, it was with dreams of the other dancing in their heads.

_A/N I'm sorry everyone. And thank you, crazyuser, you got my lazy butt back in gear. Sorry again. I still love you all, though, if that makes it any better?_


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